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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867943">Calculated moves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_brontide/pseuds/lady_brontide'>lady_brontide</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Savour [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Confused Din Djarin, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mando is needy and impatient, OFC is a botanist, One Shot, POV Din Djarin, Smut, Soft Din Djarin, Top Din Djarin, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, forgive her lack of ship repair know-how, hmmm, how many tropes can I slide into one one shot, however will mando get his excess energy out, however will they stay warm, oh no the heating is broken and it's cold, reader/she is focused, takes place between chapters of HSLP, the most-self indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:34:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_brontide/pseuds/lady_brontide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Smutty one shots that don't fit into the actual plot of my actual story.<br/>-Mando's antsy after a tedious hunt. Sweet girl accidentally swaps some heating lines. They have two problems, and Mando has one (1) solution.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Savour [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Calculated moves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mando isn’t really a demanding man. He’s forward while being patient, and he knows the value of giving a good chase for a target. He’s perfected the art of waiting. </p><p>His hunt lasted three days in all, the quarry came back limping with a gashed up leg which had slowed down his return to the <em> Crest </em>. He was just as tired as the quarry, having helped them walk the last kilometer in the jungle heat, and between the heavyset bounty limping and the armor Mando couldn’t be bothered with formalities when he finally made it to the clearing. He heard her spanner frying something and hazy smoke from one of the landing arrays, but he doesn’t call out, confident she’ll hear at least the quarry mewling. He catches a glimpse of her shoulder bared under the sun, and her sticky undershirt under the engine boot, and his cock twitches hopefully. </p><p>He took a second while the carbonite frosted over, leaning against the armoury doors to breathe. He could hear the disembodied narration she was spinning for herself. Normally it never affected him - space is quiet, he’s not a talker, and the child can’t speak. But right now, he’s antsy. The more he thinks about her outside with her skin on display, the deeper he has to breathe. A grunt and a clang reaches his ears, and his pants tighten further. He’s a grown man, he can wait until she’s done with her task-</p><p>-he strides down the ramp and turns around the corner, doing his best to control his breath. All the excess energy and frustration from the tedious walk back works its way through his veins. His arms were feeling limp and now he doesn’t want to do anything but lift her up against the bulkhead until they’re limp again. </p><p>“Hi,” she calls, turning to look over her shoulder. She’s spread lazily over a makeshift-crate-chair sitting while working on the machinery. She’s focused on her data pad and power output reader, and her voice sounds far away, even to Mando. “How’d the hunt go?”  </p><p>“Same as it always does.” His voice wavers, swallowing around his tongue at the sight of her hair piled up exposing the line of her neck and sloping valley between her shoulder blades. He can see the shadows under her vertebrae, watches the little grey spots where her shirt has stuck to her. And the worst part he decides, because it makes his cock go rigid, is the jumpsuit arms she has tied around her waist, highlighting the curve of her hips. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward. She knows he often likes a hard round after a hunt, and he makes up for his roughness later in the safety of hyperspace. She still hasn’t turned around though, and he grins a bit, wondering if she’s waiting for him to take the lead. The thought makes his chest tighten.</p><p>He comes to stand behind her, pretending to be interested in whatever the fuck she’s doing while he’s clearly ready to go, and reaches out to stroke his knuckles on the nape of her neck. He knows her body at this point, knows what makes her sing. He’s waiting for her to tilt her head back like a preening loth cat.   </p><p>She doesn't move. He shifts so his body is angled towards her and spreads his fingers out to cup her whole neck and run his thumb up behind her ear, and feels his blood pounding in anticipation of doing so while she’s writhing back on his cock. </p><p>She still doesn’t move.  </p><p>“Sorry, I’m almost done. This took me all day to find, I want to finish up.” Her voice is soft, and she says it like she’s told him she’d rather have soup instead of bread. </p><p>Mando blinks. Then blinks again. Then takes his hand off her neck, hovering a moment before dropping it to his side. He’s lost. This is uncharted territory for him. Both because she’s usually as ready as he is after just a day apart, and it had been <em> three </em>, and because he isn’t used to being denied. By anyone. </p><p>“Okay,” he says. He’s a little slow, but he turns and walks up the ramp in a daze. He stood before his armoury, opened it, and started very slowly removing charges, changing the plasma canister in his blaster, unclipping the amban rifle and taking it apart to clean. He isn’t even seeing the metal parts click and break into pieces in his hands, he’s running on autopilot, still sharing blood between his brain and his lower half. He sets the rifle stock down and this time stomps down the ramp and turns the corner. She’s slumped over even further, with her elbows on her knees, intently staring into her data pad, the blue screen reflecting in her eyes. </p><p>“What are you working on?” Mando isn’t sure he should stand behind her again. So he just stares, and leans into his hip, willing his hard-on to stand down. </p><p>“I followed this cooling line to here, even though it’s supposed to be over there,” she waves her hand toward the engine. “And I found a circuit board-” there’s an electric board the size of his hand pulled out with other adjoining cables hooked into it “-that’s marked for the heating system. I think they’re cross-wired so I’m trying to correct it.”</p><p>“Do you know what you’re doing?” </p><p>“Not really,” she answers, and glances up, at least looking sheepish. Mando dips his chin. “What’s the worst that can happen?” </p><p>The engine roars in response, then sputters out, flaring the wind-breakers. Mando stares at the boot, as it restarts itself, gently coming to life. It hums pleasantly, as if it didn’t just have the electric equivalent of a cardiac arrest. </p><p>Mando shifts, watered down dread mixing with arousal. She turns from the engine, to him, and back to the circuit board. It sparks a little under her gaze, and he grimaces.</p><hr/><p>The heating and coolant software swaps junctions, and Mando can’t coax the heating system to click on without expelling the coolant fluids.  </p><p>He has another quarry on this system to go after, so he doesn’t mind leaving the ship where it is with the ground protocols engaged. But he can’t lie - he’s annoyed. He’s used to working in extremes and likes his home in working order, heating system included, but he can’t deny her apology, so he sighs and tells her they’ll fix it in the morning. </p><p>“I think the kid will be warmer wrapped and in his cradle,” she says, sitting cross-legged on his cot’s edge with the kid in her lap. He’s half asleep, part of her shirt clutched in his hand. Mando glances over and can see the shadow between her breasts and promptly whips his head back to his task of removing the armor plate by plate. </p><p>“I agree,” he answers. He thought his body would soften and his excess energy would dissipate. He’d been wrong. Every time she bent, kneeled, brushed her hair back, or even ran her hands over her biceps to alleviate goosebumps, he felt his blood run hot and fast. He’d been waiting all afternoon for the kid to sleep. There were only so many times he could do a diagnostic on the phoenix without raising her suspicions. And he’d already run three. </p><p>He tugs his flak vest off, and out of the corner of his eye he watches her uncurl the baby’s fist from her clothes and set him in the pram. He takes deep steadying breaths through the modulator watching her nimble fingers press the blanket around his ears before shutting the pram lid. That does it. </p><p>“Take your clothes off.” Her head whips up, brows furrowed, but he can see the flush crawling over her through the thermal filter. “Now.”</p><p>“Mando-”</p><p>He’s already reaching for the band of her pants before she leans back into the cot and lifts her hips to push them down. His blood roars, and he follows her, crawling into the cramped space hot on her heels and reaching for the hem of her shirt. She sits up and lets him tug the offending fabric and throw it somewhere behind him in the hold, too focused on her, and his cock pressing against his fly, and all the frustrating, tedious, chasing he’d had to do for <em> three straight days </em> and then have to <em> wait for her? </em> He grabs at her breast and his cock jumps when she hiccups in surprise. </p><p>He leaves her breast to shove at her sternum until she’s lying flush against the thin mattress.  </p><p>He fists one hand in her hair and the sound she makes when he tugs her head back to expose her neck makes his brain static out. All he can think about is getting her naked, and the wet heat between her legs. Something nags him as he runs his other hand over her upper arm, reveling in her skin after only getting to see it earlier in the day. It’s puckered. He takes his hand away, breathing hard. “Are you cold?”</p><p>She blinks, surprise crosses her face as she lies with a shake of her head, but he can see her skin rising in the chilled air of the hull. </p><p>“Tell me the truth.” </p><p>“I’m cold,” she responds. He thrills at her obedience. He sits back, one hand gripping inside her knee, the other searching for the light outside the cot. When he finds it, the hold goes pitch black, and he slides his helmet off, letting it clunk on the floor. Her hands slide along his ribcage, and he can vaguely see her shape sitting up reaching for him. Normally her hands are warm and soft, but he only registers their gentle pressure through his clothes. She's colder than she let on, and he beats off the brief feeling of guilt. </p><p>“Hold on,” he says, gently pulling her hands off of him. He backs out of the bunk, and feels around on the ground for her layer of blankets over the bedroll. “Get under these.” He holds the blankets out to her shadow. </p><p>“Okay,” she says. He listens to her move around in the tiny space, the knock of her knee against the durasteel, as he strips until he’s naked, and fuck, it is cold in here. He isn’t sure why he stopped, Maker knows he would have been content to fuck her spineless in his bed without any covering. He’s a livewire - but he selfishly doesn’t want her to be so cold she can’t concentrate on him. “All set.” He crawls back over her body, and hums with approval when he discovers she’s held the blanket back so he can lay between her warm thighs. She pulls the fabric up to his shoulders and he once again sets into her mouth, sliding his hands in her hair. </p><p>“Need you, want you to fuck me,” she mumbles into his cheek. He groans from his chest. He’s taking his sweet time digging into her neck with his teeth, and grinding the line of his cock against her wet cunt. He’s waiting until he’s soaked from her, until she’s just as wanting as him. Somewhere he knows he’s avenging his own impatient self. He’s got a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. “Why are you waiting?” </p><p>She’s going to kill him. He’s going to black out with pleasure if she asks him, <em>him</em>, a man who people beg mercy from, to shove his cock into her. “You made me wait,” he says into her neck, nipping her soft skin. He drags one hand to her hip so he can hitch her pelvis to just the right angle so his coarse hair brushes against her clit with every heavy drag.</p><p>“I was-<em> oh </em>-I was working on the ship. Keep doing that.” Her mewling nearly breaks him.  “You want me to stop everything so you can bend me over?”</p><p>“Yes,” he growls. He’s tempted to reach down and shove his fingers in and give her a taste of what he’s going to do to her, but he can’t bear to drag himself away. Not when her breasts and belly are flush with his skin. The bunk is getting warmer, there’s sweat gathering on his back. </p><p>“I was distracted.” She’s framing his head with her forearms, and he can feel her thighs tensing to try and keep him where he feels best. Every time she jumps from it, heat pools behind his belly, building. “Please, please, <em>please</em>.” </p><p>He catches on her entrance and slides in with one long, hard roll that he leans his body into. Her breath pauses adjusting to being full of him, and he can’t stop the smirk playing over his lips at getting that smart mouth to stop running. She’s so tight around him, squeezing, and he has to catch his own breath, marveling at how right here between her legs is the only homecoming he cares for anymore. </p><p>He starts moving, deliberately slow and it makes her limbs shake. She’s tight and hot around him. He’s in her mouth, in her cunt, and against her belly. It’s all the places life flows out of, and it makes him get harder thinking about it. This is what he needed, a draining round to work his impending exhaustion into. He sets on his elbows, and carefully works up a pace, still slow but pressing into her so their skin is flush. It has her squirming beneath him, bucking her hips up and drawing him deeper. He knows he is heavier than her, and presses his body weight into every inward slide, and every time she gasps like it’s brand new. He bites her jaw. </p><p>“Can you take more?” He pulls back to find the shadowed outline of her face. Next time he’d use a blindfold so he could watch her expressions change. </p><p>“There’s more?” Her voice goes high. Instead of picking up the pace, he begins letting his all his weight fall into his dragging thrusts, trying to tell her <em> yes there’s fucking more </em>. He’ll give her everything he has. She tilts her hips, and he’s suddenly moving down into her, and he reaches to grab her knee and pull it up and keep her exactly where she is.</p><p>“Yes, there’s more.” </p><p>“Fuck, please more, Mando.”</p><p>He starts pummeling into her, abandoning the steady pace he’d set for himself and she whines around him. He claps a hand over her mouth to keep her sobs where they are. </p><p>“Mando,” she says after a while, after she proved to him she could work her neediness out with her hips instead of her mouth. Her voice is far away, she’s riding an oncoming bliss. It makes his own high build in his veins. He’s aching for release, she must know it. She lifts her head and he never stops moving. “<em> Harder </em>.”</p><p>Mando is a patient man. He knows the value of a good chase, the process and act of wearing out an opponent before facing them. He knows the power of a calculated touch rather than a quick, impassioned one. </p><p>He doesn’t remember any of that when he rears back and forces her legs against her chest and fucks down into her, still hard and heavy, dragging and brilliant. Every slide in sends heat shooting up his chest. Mando can’t take it. Her cries are so pretty, and her praises for him, <em> for his cock </em>, fall out of her mouth. From here he dips his fingers down and swipes them in circles over her clit to make her writhe. He doesn’t stop until he is sure she’s come shuddering and going pliant beneath him, then he plants both his hands behind her knees and pours every bit of frustration and anxious energy into her weeping cunt. He comes grunting, pushing further until her hand brushes his hip to let him know he’s bottomed out, as deep as he can go without hurting her. It’s a rolling, overdue orgasm and he sets her limbs down as he unwinds panting, and settles himself between her legs without pulling out. He nudges her face in his direction, and cupping her cheeks he sighs against her soft mouth, spent. Mando can’t help himself, he tucks his face into the hollow of her neck and smells her amber soap lingering on her skin. The familiarity makes him twitch. </p><p>“Are you warm?” he asks. He’s rewarded with a sweet hum and sigh. </p><p>“Yeah, I am. Are you?”</p><p>“I’m always warm,” he answers, and presses open-mouthed kisses to her neck. </p><p>“I know why it happened,” she says. “Why the heating is out.”</p><p>He lifts his head off her shoulder to run the ridge of his nose along her jawline. “You do?”</p><p>“I attached the software terminal ends to the wrong parts of the circuit board. You put your hand on my neck and I got distracted,” she murmurs and presses her hips up making him jerk and grumble. He’s oversensitive but he can’t bear to leave. “After you walked away, I attached the ends wrong. You distracted me.”</p><p>Mando holds his breath, floored. This disastrous woman with her shoulders and her soft belly that drives him insane is distracted by him. He sets his head down in the crook of her neck, content to lay in the expanse of her legs for the rest of eternity. The little compartment is already cooling down, and he feels her skim her hands down his sides to pull the blanket back up around them, then thread her fingers into his hair. </p><p>“Don’t move,” she says. He had no intention of it anyway. He’s determined to lay his full weight across her and stay seated within her for as long as he wants. He wants to feel everything, as much of her as he can. So he pulls his hips away and pushes back in to hear the obscene, wet mess between their bodies and to entice her to dig her nails into her scalp. </p><p>“I want you again,” he tells her breast, kissing the swell above her nipple. “I wanted you as soon as I came back.” </p><p>He blushes when she hums and answers, “you can have me whenever you want.” He can hear her smiling. “Unless you want your ship working. Then you might have to wait a little.” </p><p>He sets his teeth into her soft skin and sucks, making her squirm under him, but it just makes his cock wake up and start to fill again. </p><p>“I meant what I said. You break my ship, you’ll have to earn your keep other ways.” He groans with her as he slips out of body. He sets his hand on her thigh to urge her to roll onto her side so he can mold his front against her back. He reaches around her waist to slide his fingers along her swollen pussy and waits to feel himself leak out of her. It’s heady and he has to clench his jaw. </p><p>He tells himself he just wants her to stay warm. That he keeps rubbing tight circles into her clit and sliding his fingers into her cunt to keep her core temperature up the most efficient way he knows how. And if he slides his cock back into her and feels her skin heat up as she squirms under the arm holding her tight against his chest, it’s just a calculated touch, and has nothing to do with missing her. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm supposed to be working on 'Amber in her skin' but I needed to get this out of my system before I wrote chapter two for the...third time. This is directly from my own character headcanon notes. I couldn't resist.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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